Hide and Seek
by Anastadne
Summary: A HGSS drabble-format tagfic: How what was lost might be found - if she's very, very lucky, and very, very good.
1. Dear Professor Snape

Disclaimer: We're just playing. Everything belongs to JK.

_AN: *swishes cape* Anastadne is the twisted brainchild of Anastasia (Timeturnerforsale) ("Of Debts and Debt Collection") and AriadneAWS ("A Walking Shadow"). Grins, cocked eyebrows, and sweeping black cloaks abound. Enjoy what we've called tag!fic in 100 word drabble format._

Ariadne started it... 

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Dear Professor Snape,

I've something of yours that I found in the Shrieking Shack when I went back to check for your body – something very important, I think – nothing I'm willing to trust to owl post, regardless.

I hope this owl finds you. I've tried Spinner's End and that pub in Knockturn Alley you think the students don't know about. I can respect your desire not to be seen or found, of course, but the item in question is rattling in its case and emitting a strange odour.

I've no idea how to neutralise it.

Yours sincerely,

Hermione Granger


	2. Miss Granger

Disclaimer: The usual applies. Just playing.

_AN: *grins* ~Anastasia _

* * *

  
Miss Granger,

Of course, the clever use of a ghost owl would be your doing, and, while impressive, shall not make me reveal where (and if) I am. Since you have exerted such effort to reach me though, I've chosen to respond.

The item you are describing is important, yes, but not beyond your skill to master. I shall not reveal what it can do, but will disclose that it likely knows exactly how to open the case's latch – and is of the most powerful dark magic.

Enjoy.

Do not try to find me,  
Professor Snape

PS: It likes tea.


	3. Dear Professor Snape 2

A/N: Ari again. Tag, Ana. You're it. :)

Usual disclaimer: Having fun; not making any money.

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Dear Professor Snape,

I assure you I am not trying to find you, merely to return what is clearly your possession. If you've no use for this whatever-it-is, then I shall dispose of it entirely. I've no interest in the Dark Arts, as you well know, you great, egotistical git…

---

_No, that won't do…_

---

… as you very well know.

Yours sincerely,

Hermione Granger

P.S. Your _in absentia_ trial concluded last week. Had your "item" – it's started humming, by the way – been found in the Shack, it would have gone worse.

---

She smiled primly and cast forth the owl.


	4. Miss Granger 2

Disclaimer: No money - only fun.

_AN: *laughs* Ana here. Tag. :D_  


* * *

  
Severus chuckled darkly.

---

Miss Granger,

It matters not if you are interested in the Dark Arts. Merely handling it has tainted you in a way far worse than your book-addled mind could ever hope to encompass. The humming is a precursor. To what, I shall not disclose, but, since you still draw breath, it must like you – for now. If you believe you may simply dispose of it, you are far less intelligent than I have given you credit for in the past.

Professor Snape

PS: I care not about any trial, nor its outcome, as you well know.


	5. Dear Professor Snape 3

A/N: Ari here. Tag, Ana.

* * *

As Hermione read Snape's missive, the latch sprung open. In a flash, she grabbed her copy of Casaubon's _Key to All Mythologies_ - quite the heaviest book ever published – and plonked it onto the lid.

---

Dear Professor Snape,

If I imagined you were interested in the verdict, I'd've shared it with you. Obviously.

Sincerely yours,

Hermione Granger

---

Casaubon's book toppled to the desktop.

Hermione paled.

When nothing further happened, she bent to the parchment and wrote, "P.S."

The humming resumed.

_Ah. A bit lonely, Professor Snape?_

---

P.S. I wore Voldemort's soul for months. Tainted? Please. Been there; still breathing.


	6. Miss Granger 3

Disclaimer: Same as always. No money. Only fun.

_AN: *laughs darkly* Tag. ~Ana _

* * *

  
Severus set his teacup down and grinned. Raising an eyebrow toward the impatient owl clicking back and forth across his table, he hissed, "Settle!"

And, with wide, startled eyes, it promptly did.

-------------------

Miss Granger,

Perhaps I was not clear enough earlier to penetrate your exceedingly thick mind. The type of taint I am referring to is not something to be survived or proud of. It is a cold, broken, nearly unbearable existence. Something your overly analytical mind would easily miss.

Obviously.

Professor Snape

P.S. Casaubon? Please. Weight is not the answer, Miss Granger. You're only serving as amusement now.


	7. Dear Professor Snape 4

A/N: Ari again. (Psst. Ana. _Tag._)

* * *

Dear Professor Snape,

Really, there's no reason to go all shirty. Of course you've endured worse things than having Voldemort whisper your worst nightmares to you for weeks on end. Everyone knows that. It was the lead article in _The Daily Prophet_ during your trial. But of course you don't want to know about that.

I have appeased the whatever-it-is with the scent of Earl Grey (thank you for the advice; the rattling was becoming tiresome), and I believe it has gone to sleep. (You might have warned me that the case needed to be burped, though.)

Respectfully,

Hermione Granger


	8. Miss Granger 4

Disclaimer: Same as always. Fun, no profit.

_AN: Ana again. Tag. :) I should also note that neither of us knows what the other is doing until it appears here. _

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Miss Granger,

Interesting language. Clearly, the war took its toll. I am, by no means, being _shirty_, as you so eloquently describe, merely offering a warning. If you could comprehend the object you hold there, your demeanor would surely correct itself.

What I endured during my time as spy is of no concern to you or anyone else. I will thank you to leave that subject to death, where it belongs.

It sleeps but does not rest. Since you have no hope of understanding the object's power or importance in the slightest, it is time we discuss its return.

Snape


	9. Interlude: Hermione

A/N: Angry Severus, ignorant Hermione, scary whatever-it-is.. ~ Ari

* * *

  
The ghost owl glided noiselessly through her window, but she was restlessly asleep on the narrow bed next to the desk. It folded its wings, standing silent sentry over the ominously smoking case.

_Professor Snape… eyes… cold… trapped… hollow…_

Hermione whimpered in her sleep, her head tossing on the pillow.

_A small case on Dumbledore's spindly table… Dumbledore's voice: "Take it, Severus… I dare not touch what it is meant to contain…" Snape refusing... fear? Finally, bitterly, conceding …_

Her outflung arm brushed the case, which shrank.

She awoke with it closed tightly in her hand.

Her skin was burning.


	10. Interlude: Severus

Disclaimer: The usual. Just for fun.

_AN: And we're back. Tag. ~Ana _

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_"Take it, Severus... I dare not touch what it is meant to contain."_

His eyes fixed on ornate grooves flaring at his touch; his soul rending from the very thought.... "No...."

"Severus..." Dumbledore shifting in his chair. "... you must agree – given your task – and promise. You will most surely die without its protection."

His hand spreading over the burning case, thumb on the latch. "Death would be preferable...."

Dumbledore's eyes boring into his: "You will not forget."

–-

Severus opened his eyes, his fingers gripping the chair's arm tight enough to tear.

"Liar."


	11. Dear Professor Snape 5

Hermione's blistered palm stretched around her quill.

---

Dear Professor Snape,

---

She winced as one of the blisters broke, blotching her ink, but she kept writing.

---

The case has stopped rattling - it's much, much smaller than last night, and it's giving off so much heat that even the ghost owl won't go near it, even when I wrap it in Mertlap-soaked cloths. They dry instantly anyway; whatever is inside seems to absorb the anaesthesia's essence.

---

Another blister broke.

---

It can't be truly Dark, or the Mertlap would turn yellow.

The owl won't touch it. Please advise.

Yours sincerely,

Hermione Granger


	12. Severus Pays a Visit

Disclaimer: No money. Just playing.

_AN: Double tag. ~Ana_  


* * *

  
Severus scowled at the blotchy parchment, ran his fingers through his hair, and then slowly let his hand fall. Shoving his chair back roughly, he stood, swept across the room, swung his cloak around his shoulders, and, lifting his head to fasten the clasp, eyed the owl.

The owl sat low on the window ledge, carefully watching the wizard's mood darken, then, in a flash, it found itself encased in a cage. Before the owl could protest, the cage was wrenched sideways, and bounced along under the wizard's arm.

"You and I are going to pay someone a visit."

-----

Through desolate skies, Severus flew, leather gloves gripping the broom's handle, cage tucked under his arm. After many hours, he slowed, touched down silently, set the cage to the ground - and hesitated. Placing a hand on the cold metal, he waited – doubtful.

The gates opened.

Through dark hidden passages, he strode proudly, ignoring the ghosts' scandalized gasps and whispers.

And, astonishingly, his password worked as well....

Pushing open the door, the candlelight throwing tall shadows forever upwards, he approached the wall, searching.

A pleasant voice greeted him: "I've been expecting you. We have much to discuss. Tea?"


	13. Interlude: Hermione 2

A/N: Tag. (Write faster, Ana. Yours is moving; mine's bloody _reading_.) ~ Ari

* * *

Hermione's hand rested in the bowl, which she had thus far refilled sixteen times. As the level of Mertlap essence sank yet again, she turned a page in the dusty volume before her.

"_And in ye nynthe moone," she read, "it shall comme to pass: ye missing Purpose shall burne, and ye Wynde-Chariot shall swinge lowe, and He-Who-Was-Kylled…_"

"Bollocks," she muttered. "Bloody wizards have _never_ named things properly."

"Their spelling's improved," her mirror murmured complacently. "Your bowl's empty..."

Hermione glanced toward the window.

No owl.

The case was smoldering. Eerily silent.

She swallowed tightly.

"Hum? Please?"

The latch snapped open.


	14. Severus: Tea

Disclaimer: The usual. Just playing.

_AN: Taaaaaag. ~Ana_

* * *

  
Severus scowled and set the owl's cage on the desk before taking a seat. The owl opened its beak to complain, then, sensing the tension, promptly clicked it shut. Near an open window, Dumbledore's endless collection of metallic contraptions continued to spin and whirl, catching drops of pale moonlight.

"I am not here for pleasantries," Severus stated, sighing when a cup appeared at his elbow anyway.

Albus Dumbledore shifted in his frame and took a sip from his cup. "No. I rather expected your return would be for something of importance."

Severus closed his eyes. "Albus, she's – _speaking_ to it...."

---

Dumbledore smiled. "There is quite a charm to these things. More tea?"

Severus' scowl deepened further.

Dumbledore set his cup down and leaned forward. "Severus, do you wish to release it now? To regain what was hidden?"

The whirling contraption slowed, then wound once again. Leather creaked as Severus opened his hand from the fist he hadn't realized he'd made and smoothed it on his lap.

"You can open it – now."

"Not in that chit of a girl's presence," Severus growled.

Dumbledore frowned. "Now, Severus, is that any way to speak of the person who defended you at your trial?"


	15. Interlude: Hermione 3

A/N: Aaaand we're back. Tag :) ~ Ari

* * *

Book temporarily forgotten, Hermione peered closely at the case. It carvings would not stay still; she couldn't tell what they were supposed to be.

She didn't like them at all.

Feeling a bit stupid, she spoke. "You heard me?"

Whatever was inside rattled.

Fighting her desire to lean closer, she breathed, "You're supposed to be Dark."

Another rattle, perhaps an affirmation. She really couldn't tell.

"And you've tainted me?"

The lid jumped. The air around the case grew heavy, and she could have sworn it was struggling.

Its brooding silence reeked somehow of "No" and "Yes."

One was a lie.


	16. Severus: Whirling Edge

Disclaimer: No money. Just fun.

_AN: Getting hairy now, folks. *waves and tags on the way out* ~Ana_

* * *

  
Severus's tea cup crashed to the floor.

"Oh, you've spilled your tea. Shall I call a house-"

But Severus had already stood and crossed the room. "What do you mean, _defended_ me?"

Dumbledore's eyebrows raised. "Yes. Vehemently, from my understanding."

Severus reached behind his back and slowly leaned against the desk's edge. "And?"

"And she now knows quite a bit about you as a result. One of the few."

Severus glared at the portrait, his gloved hand once again forming a fist.

"Why did you leave it behind, Severus?"

Severus shook his head. "I don't-"

Dumbledore set his tea aside.

---

"Did you hope someone would find it? Destroy it?"

"No..."

"Relieve you of the responsibility for it?"

"No!" Severus shouted.

Dumbledore gripped his frame and leaned forward, tracking Severus's footsteps, raising his voice after him.

"Who? Who would try to find you? Who could decipher what it holds?"

Severus strode away, seizing of the whirling edge of the nearest contraption and swinging it across the office, sending it skidding across the desk, into the owl-cage, and to the floor, where it shattered into countless metal shards.

As the owl fled through the window, Dumbledore asked quietly, "Someone who might care?"


End file.
